Money down the drain.

Last night I did something I swore I'd never do. I paid actual money for extra lives in Candy Crush.

Well, actually, it was $0.99 for five extra turns.   But tomato tamahto.

I am ashamed of myself.

I promised myself that when I downloaded that insidious game I would never ever spend money to move ahead. I learned my lesson with Citiville on facebook… you think “oh it’s only a dollar, and c’mon, look at all I'll get”. In truth, what do you get?  Nothing. Nothing at all.  

Unless you count self-loathing as a perk.  Because if so – it comes in packs of 12.

I had been stuck on the same level of CandyCrush for almost three weeks. I play a lot too so that's a long time. I play when I’m on the train- going and coming from work or rehearsal or where ever.

I wouldn’t say that I’m a superstitious person- well, maybe I am- I mean, I always pick up heads up pennies when I find them and put them in my right shoe. I try not to walk beneath ladders, and I always toss salt over my shoulder if it spills... So i guess I am.  So disregard my previous statement.  I am a superstitious person.   I've had a rough go this month- I was unceremoniously dumped, I'm frustrated at my job and both of my parents have had recent health trouble.

So, for whatever reason, last night was the final straw. Some tiny unrealistic voice in my brain said - if you can get past this level then the rest of your shitty problems will also start to feel like they're behind you – no longer squashing you resolve to move forward. So I did it. I typed in my apple ID and bought the extra moves.

You wanna know the saddest part? I'm not even to level 200 yet- and I'm pretty sure there are 400 total - so If I get that stumped before I'm even half way thru the game - then what the hell is waiting for me later? If I were smart I'd delete the game now and go back to doing a crossword puzzle on my morning commute.

Yelling email

I have never done well when people are mad at me.  Whether it’s deserved or not, I don’t handle it well.  The other day I got a scathing email from someone who wronged me in the past and who I recently talked about to with a mutual acquaintance. Nothing I said was untrue and I didn’t embellish a thing – there was no need really as the scale of his lousiness was pretty high.  Anyway, in this email, he was furious and now I feel terrible.  Not because I got called out for gossiping – because please, everyone does it. Not because while I thought what I was saying was done in confidence, it wasn’t. I feel bad because I spent at least 95% of my life trying to do the right thing.  Do right by people, do what’s expected of me, be kind, be helpful – and those moments when I let me guard down are the moments that come back and punch me in the face

When we were little and my sister and I would get mad at my mom – her patented reply was always “I’m sorry you feel that way.”  No matter what we said or how much we screamed – she was always sorry we felt that way.  She was never sorry for actions or words – she was sorry for how we felt.

I wanted to reply to his email – acknowledge how angry he was and apologize for how he was feeling without apologizing for my actions or my feelings – which I did, but yet, I still feel terrible.

In high school the most popular boy in my freshman class and I dated for about a minute and a half.  When he dumped me I was devastated.  I spent a long time talking badly about him after that and always felt guilty.  Years later I wrote him a letter apologizing and wishing him well.  And, honestly, I had forgotten that I did that until last fall when I ran into him on the streets of NYC – he lives in LA.  We grabbed a drink to catch up on the last 15 years and he brought it up and said how much that letter meant to him.  I remember writing that letter – tracking down his address and mailing it, but I wouldn’t have remembered it without his bringing it up. 

For this man – who I haven’t seen in over two years – who I think about so rarely that it’s laughable to be so irate with me that he sends me a novel of hate mail makes me so sad.  Because for all the good I try to do – he thinks I’m terrible.  And I realize now re-reading this post– that I sound like a self-important ass hole.  But I try every day to be a good person, and it really truly, 100% bothers me that this person who I don’t think is good people, doesn’t.  I wish I could brush it off, move on, not care – but I’m not built that way.

Thunderstorm Anxiety

I love thunderstorms. I have always loved thunderstorms.

The last summer I worked as a camp counselor, we had series of tornado warnings and during the worst one of the season, everyone in camp was huddled in the cellar beneath the dining hall. 150 scared kids and 20 staff singing their throats out.  Nothing beats a good repeat after me song when trying to distract an 11 year old. We were missing a couple campers (who later turned up in the bathroom upstairs), so one of the staff had to search all the cabins to find them. I happily volunteered. I love storms. The sky was a shade of green I hope to never see again and trees were down all over the place - but if I'm being honest, that search made for one of the most invigorating and awesome afternoons I have ever had. I love storms.

My dog, however, does not.

I don't know if its just ingrained in her because she's a small dog or because or if it’s because she was a stray living on the streets for the first year of her life, but oh my god- she does not like thunder. I bought her a ThunderShirt and that has made a difference, but she is still so anxious during storms that I feel incredibly helpless. I've tried everything; the calming tablets, RescueRemedy drops, I close the curtains, put on fans or my ac to drown out the sounds and last night- a new low for my personal well being - we "slept" with the lights and radio on.

Last month during a storm, my little chi-weenie discovered her inner cat and climbed up to the top of my bookcase – maybe she was trying to surrender to the lightning gods and was trying to get closer to Zeus himself to be offered as a sacrifice- or perhaps, despite living on the top floor of our building she was just seeking higher ground... who knows. But last night- wrapped in her ThunderShirt- my quaking little dog found her only source of comfort on my pillow- and by my pillow I mean my face. Now - I’d like to think she wanted to be near me for comfort and security, but she also may have been tying to kill me to make sure I wouldn't steal oxygen from her when the storm stole it all.

Trying to get her out the door for our morning walk was a fight, as I don't think she slept at all and she is a mutant who can hold in her pee for 15 hours- she just wanted to stay snuggled in her puff. I dragged her outside- she did her business and pulled me home again so she could sleep. I'm off to work and am dreading the storm we're meant to get tonight.

Gone are the days of sleeping with the windows open. I now sympathize so badly with the author of Marley and Me. I now daydream about living somewhere with a soundproof room so I can tuck her safely inside and go back to enjoying the rain...pipe dreams. 

I used to love thunderstorms. Not anymore.